Lithuania's Manipulations
by General Winter
Summary: Lithuania likes the pain of his world, he enjoys it. A slight reminiscence on his state of mind, his relationships, and of his mask. Contains: Dark!Lithuania and mature content. One shot. Russia/Lithuania, hints of Lithuania/Poland.


Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of it's characters. This is a written piece of fan work that will not be used for any monetary gains.

Warnings: Sex and Violence, OOC, Dark!Liet, unbeta-ed, AU-ish. Countries personified as people (which if you take offense too please do not read).

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"_Ahh..ah!"_

The soft moan that had filled the room turned into a cry as the sharp _crack_ of a whip sounded against bare flesh. Panting heavily as Russia pounded into him, he let a few tears fall freely as he was brought back and forth between pleasure and pain. Ecstasy and torment.

He could feel the pressure building as he neared his release; Ivan had found that one spot that made him _wreathe_ in pleasure. The crack and sting of the whip on his scarred back mixed with the unearthly pleasure sent him over the edge in cascade of white and red as he came with a cry. Ivan moaned his release soon after and collapsed upon the smaller nation.

Lithuania gave a muffed whimper as Ivan climbed off of him, agitating the open wounds on his back. Toris didn't dare look up as he heard Ivan shuffle about in his room, gathering his clothing. He felt something cool and wet pressed into his inflamed back. Moving his face from the pillow that he had pressed it into, almost as if it was a lifeline to him, he peeked out with one glassy green eye.

"Let's play again soon Toris," Ivan smiled as he wiped some of the blood off Lithuania's back. "It was fun."

Toris gave a small nod, appearing to fear retribution if he did not answer in the positive, and reburied his face into the pillow as Ivan continued to wipe the blood off. He seemed to take his time with the task, almost as if he was admiring a favourite painting or sculpture. Each small movement of the towel traced a scar - old and new. It seemed to take forever for Ivan to finish and leave. In reality it was only more than a few minutes before Ivan left, taking the towel with him.

The soft click of the door and the fading footsteps of the larger nation soon assured that Toris was alone in his room. He waited a few minutes before moving to make sure that he was alone, and that Ivan would not come back for another round of 'playing' as he sometimes did.

The minutes ticked by slowly but confirmed that he was alone. Completely and utterly alone. The Lithuanian rolled onto his back as his eyes became darker, and tears welled up. He could not hold it in any longer as he was about to burst from holding back in Ivan's presence. The sensation traveled up through his body and…

…Toris laughed. Laughed, and laughed, and laughed. He laughed until he was choking on his own breath as his lungs filled and emptied rapidly. He laughed until tears streamed down his smooth cheeks. Taking a few deep breathes, he soon had his maniacal laughter under control and dissolved it into short bursts of giggling.

_This was just too easy._

Lithuania looked at himself in the mirror that was on the vanity near the bed in which he currently occupied. His reflection stared back at him cynically. He smiled at his reflection, and it smiled back. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

Most of the nations looked at him with pitying eyes, all knowing the interest that Russia had in him. The fools. They knew _nothing_. He made sure they knew nothing. Lithuania wanted them to think _'Poor Lithuania, he's so brave for living with Russia. The pain that he must endure for his family.'_ Toris giggled, he wanted his mask to work, to be flawless unlike himself.

Being weak gave him so much more power than being strong. Being strong meant you had to be independent and protect yourself from invading nations. Being strong meant that you had to prove your power through armies and wealth. Being strong meant you had to keep a reputation. Being strong meant you had to do many troublesome things.

Lithuania enjoyed appearing weak because all of this was served to him by other nations. He was by no means lazy and he _did_ care about his people, his citizens, his ruler; however as he was now, people were more willing to listen to his suggestions and more willing to give into his requests. A small timid smile and a _'Please Sir,'_ often got him what he wanted.

He leaned back on his bed, hissing in pleasure as the cool sheets met with his hot back and the friction agitated his newly acquired wounds. Over the years he grew to like the pain that he was given. Enjoyed it even. It was painful at first, especially when he had not been used to such pain even after the many battles he had been in. It was a different sort of pain, not ones caused by blades and arrows. However the pain became a part of him - etched into him on his back and body. Toris loved it now.

He rolled over to look at the photos on his desk. He was surprised Ivan let him keep them; the Russian was very possessive of what he considered 'his' after all.

The one nearest him was his 'best friend', Feliks. Toris generally liked Feliks, loved him even. He was someone that he could count on, and always had. He was also a good fuck when Toris wanted to dominate someone. Feliks was always up for sex as long as it included a cuddle and ice cream somewhere along the line. That was fine with him. Feliks would always stand up for him. Toris would return the favour. After all, the small nations had to stick together.

The next was a snapshot of him and his brothers. Ah yes, his brothers. The ones he was 'protecting' from Russia. Or so everyone thought. It may have started out as 'rape' and 'protection', but now it more resembled 'sex' and 'want'. They didn't know this though. No one knew this. His brothers were blissfully naïve, however they had their uses.

Estonia, dear Eddie, was a fountain of knowledge, literally. Latvia, his youngest brother, was a great confident. Even if he didn't tell them everything, they were still part of his mask. They showcased his insecurities, fake or not. They adored him. They would do anything for him. His brothers vied for his affection, so he gave special attention to each. After all, it wouldn't do to lose them in his world.

Ivan, his dear Ivan. The wonders Lithuania could explore with that nation. Russia liked causing pain, while Lithuania learned to enjoy it. A small giggle escaped him. Ivan would protect him when needed, especially from the… glances he received from other nations (like France). Maybe soon he would let on that he liked the pain. Maybe Ivan would happily explore other methods. A muffled _'more' _after the whip connected with his flesh might just be the encouragement needed. Toris shivered with pleasure at the thought, his grin widening.

The last picture on his desk was of Alfred F. Jones, his employer for a short while. Toris smiled, they were good memories and an important bond formed. A bond that secured Alfred as an ally, and a very strong one at that. Al would give him refuge if needed, though Lithuania doubt he would need it. He had enough _special_ friends on this side of the pond.

Toris rolled off the bed and walked towards the bathroom, admiring his scars along the way. A few decades ago, he would have never been like this, he thought languidly as he turned the shower on. What had made him change he wondered? If Toris was honest with himself, which he always was, he would say he really didn't know. One day he had woken up and everything seemed different. Or that's what it felt like.

He stepped into the shower, letting the water cascade down his body. He could see the red of his blood mixing in with clear, pure water and tainting it. He didn't mind. This was the proof of his life, his choices, his mind. He didn't mind.

The shower stripped away all the grim and other substances clinging to his body as Toris was lost in thought. His whispered suggestions usually got him what he wanted. People turned to him for advice. The world was beginning to look like a game that he was winning, but he would never go that far. He was content being in the shadows. He was content on being 'poor little Lithuania' who was good at housework and was kind.

The best part was, no one suspected him. Well almost no one. Belarus had caught on, perhaps because she was the same as him. He didn't let it bother him. She was only suspicious, and if he continued to throw her off, he had a good chance of staying alive.

He stepped out of the shower and looked into the fogged mirror. He wiped away the condensation that had collected on the cool surface. He smiled a blank empty smile. He was content for now. He didn't mind his façade. His manipulations were perfect. Still smiling.

A tear slipped out and down his cheek - still smiling.

In his perfect world, he was the only thing broken.

And he kept smiling.

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AN: So, uh, hi. I hope you enjoyed it. I was inspired by something, not exactly sure as to what, to write this. As you may have noticed, this is unbeta-ed, so feel free to point out all mistakes. I would appreciate it after all. I liked writing a darker side of Lithuania. It was fun. See you next time.


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